


Christmas box

by Riakon



Series: Christmas spirit [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riakon/pseuds/Riakon
Summary: North need a gift. Something uncomplicated, but elegant, perhaps lightweight to weightlessness, but emphasizing the beauty of Chloe.





	Christmas box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lusciouswhiteflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusciouswhiteflame/gifts).



This feeling is unlike any other that North had experienced before. To tell the truth, she stops like an idol every time when she sees soft blond hair, cleaned in a simple, but not without attractive hairstyle in her sight. Everything is tensed up inside as if she is trying to embrace the immense or to move very heavy, but this pain, pulling and crushing, is pleasant to her.

Ever since Marcus forced her to come with him to a business meeting with Kamski at the first time, everything she could do in her free time is to think about Chloe. A blond angel with blue eyes, from whose smile everything is hopelessly collapsing, forcing the system to occupy resources from an autonomous control module. And to which she lacks any determination to accost.

This kind of combat person, customary to solve everything at once, to take its time by hand, instantly upsetting the positions and covering the rear, North simply felt uncomfortable when even her thoughts touch ST200. The girl of the latest models looks so modest, so immaculate and so inaccessible that her language simply goes numb when she tries to say anything.

“Good evening,” - a voice sounded in her head.

She recognized the modulations instantly, threw up her chin and looked into her blue eyes with a ridiculous challenge, as if trying to run into a fight. Chloe sent her one of the most incredible smiles, and a thirium rushed to her cheeks, giving out her mixed feelings.

Who would have thought that it wasn't North who would begin their conversation, yes? And now, every evening, when a soft, gentle voice sounds in my head, she is like the statues of Moai, unable to even move in the first few seconds. But her CPU instantly absorbs all the resources that she only has. Such was their very first meeting. Simon then suggested in his usual, soft tone:

\- Maybe you will come to her? - in his words there was such a soft request that she could not resist and trying to keep her chin higher and not squeeze her palms into fists, approached the blond angel, who was looking up at her because of a noticeable difference in height.

How long ago did it happen? A week? Two? A month? Time flows differently when it comes to Chloe, and North has to go to the system to establish that it was all three miserable weeks ago. Three weeks ago, their hands touched and the skin instantly fell off, exposing both limbs to the very elbow.

North was frightened of such a manifestation of sensuality, recoiled, but Chloe looked so calm that she had to quickly take herself in her hands, at the same time isolating from the warm mixture of images and touches that instantly enveloped her that carried special information, an underdeveloped thought that contained something as the reason why the heart just started to go crazy with delight.

“I like you, North,” - light as a feather, immaculately polite, and so alive that it was impossible not to smile. Especially if North knows, she will get the same smile in return.

\- North? North! - Marcus's dissatisfied voice pulls out of sweet memories, forcing him to tear himself away from the immersion in the memory fixed in the system and to raise his head, rebraiding the plait on the move.

\- Huh? - she raises her eyebrows, trying to move her thoughts away from sweet Chloe, with whom they talk too much in their free time, to get close to each other as beloved do - quickly and completely.

\- I need to deliver a gift to Elijah Kamski in gratitude for the support that he provided to all of us after the revolution, - the leader calmly tells her, and North diligently pretends that she is not ready to jump for joy on such an assignment. - I would like you to hand it.

\- Why me? - North askes with controversy, raising an eyebrow, - there is always Josh or Simon, they definitely won't fly off the handle if something happens.

\- Cos you are my right hand, North, - Marcus gives out a shadow of hidden in the corners of his lips mockery, and North looks at these inferior emotions with mixed feelings — only Simon could act on their leader so much that he began to train in showing emotions on to the public so that they can love him as much as the inner circle.

She would not have succeeded in it.

\- Okay,- she pulls out and shakes her head as if she hadn’t been given a delightful opportunity to see Chloe on Christmas live rather than talk remotely, trying again to reach out to Chloe's feelings, to accapt them with her very essence, to cuddle up with the whole being makes another android and drag off to your lair and never let her out.

\- That's nice, - Marcus nods, leaving North alone with a simple thought — to come to Chloe with empty hands is no good at all.

She needs a gift. Something uncomplicated, but elegant, perhaps lightweight to weightlessness, but emphasizing its beauty.

Thoughts of jewelry come to mind instantly, and all the time North spends at home in search of suitable clothing before the date, she studies all the catalogs of this city, trying to find at least something worthy.

Nothing.

They’re empty.

As if all the people in damn Detroit had bought up everything that could be good enough for Chloe, leaving out unsuitable garbage! She is angry mostly at herself, at her incompetence, short-sightedness, when Chloe's voice envelops her head in her head:

"Good evening".

Nervousness retreats a couple of steps, and she sits down on a bed littered with clothes and hastily throws all tabs out of the system with the search for jewelery, concentrating on it and answering with difficulty taking herself in hand and trying to sound as carefree as possible:

"Hello. How are you?"

A question, instead of an attack - if you do not want to answer, ask first. And she doesn't know what Kamski is doing there with his androids, but Chloe doesn't answer the question at all, giving her anxiety instead:

"Are you okay?"

“Yes,” - North sends to their connections concentrating again.

 

It feels like a soft, unobtrusive hug. Like a hand placed on the shoulder and the glance of blue eyes that stabbes soul straightly. For some reason North is especially easy to imagine Chloe here, next to herself. As augmented reality, which is available only to androids in the tactile version.

“Tell me?” - gentle intonations in a familiar, pleasant voice make North feel ashamed of her own desperate lies.

Of course, if she sees and feels Chloe as she feels, then why shouldn’t it work in the opposite direction, right?

“I ...” - she starts and shakes her head a little, giving out so hastily, as if she is wringing her hand out of the connector for a quick replacement, instead of soldering the necessary seam, - “I haven’t found a Christmas gift for you.”

She is scared to hear the clarification, because North won't be able to repeat it. There is a danger simply not to withstand the need to once again admit her total failure, that she could even think about it at least a week ago, but she didn’t even think of this sensible thought, because none of Kamski's “Chloe” ever leaves his home, and get to him without an invitation is nothing but a great success.

North is unlucky. North screwed up.

Anger and guilt burden her, forcing to lower her head, allowing them to fall with heavy stones where her soul should be. Invisible gravity squeezes the heartbeat regulator from the inside, adding the feeling that it breaks out of the chest.

Soft fingers touch her chin, make to raise her eyes, to look at the non-existent girl in this room, who is all in her mind. So simple and understandable, to look without further ado, and realize that Chloe understands her feelings, although the North seems to her a problem unworthy of such attention.

Or such torture.

“If I say that I haven’t found a worthy gift for you, will you be mad at me?” - she asks with a friendly smile, but looking carefully, not allowing to think that this question was rhetorical.

“What?” - North is amazed, dying and looking into the emptiness in the real room and right into the beautiful blue eyes. - “No, damn! Of course not!"

“So why would I be offended by you for this?” - Chloe smiles at her and North feels relieved. It rolls over consciousness, removing most of the nervousness and despair, but not all.

“Cos I would really like to give you something,” - she finally formulates something that continues to stir up the alarm in her head.

For some reason, for the first moment, North thinks that Chloe will ask her some questions again, in the spirit of “Why does it bother you?” or “Doesn’t it wait until next year?”, but in return she gets incredibly embarrassed, but together so amazingly sweet:

“You can always kiss me as a gift.”

North freezes not believing any of her systems, which keep a record of everything that happens in her head, and to which she makes about a hundred requests in the next five seconds, trying to make sure that she didn’t hear.

The system insists that every sound is recognized correctly and the North breaks down. Inside her head she attracts Chloe, who is sitting next to her, and kisses her slowly, confidently, as if her knees are not shaking from what she is doing.

Warm hands are wrapped around her neck, and North presses an invisible copy to her, falling and sprawling on the bed. She is one, and at the same time, there are two of them now.

In augmented reality Chloe’s neat cheekbones are in her palms and she’s all pressed to her body as closely as North can imagine. And there, she will hardly be able to stop, because the soft suppleness of gentle lips simply drives you crazy, complementing the existing world with the taste of cotton candy poured from the base of her knowledge right into the air around them.

Slide along the soft sides, touch the bulging sharp blades, walk around the neck with your palms and clasp their faces again to drown in blue eyes - all this is a sequence that comes from nowhere, just descend upon it in an instant and forcing it to obey.

This time everything is not as it was when North worked in a brothel - her internal processes are not limited, no one demands from her obedient execution of each of the items, but now she wants it herself. She likes to flip, crush Chloe under herself, pulling the elastic out of her hair and see how the smooth, soft strands crumble over her pillow. Likes to slide her lips along the neck, and feel the hot, scorching touch to the base, which goes not through the skin or body, but her very soul, touching vulnerable and defenseless places with such trepidation that the pump in the chest gets off.

There is no one in her room, but there are two of them in North's head, they pull clothes off of each other, although she could simply crumble under desire. However, North does not want to - she really pulls off her home T-shirt, emerges from soft shorts, concentrating on this surprisingly clear, and seeing the same straightforward picture from the other side. Chloe was clearly cozy, flannel pajamas, but now she is pressed against her, skin to skin, so close that she wanna die.

This is not sex - no one can call sex the way they touch souls, carefully, carefully, fearing hitting the wrong place, pressing too hard, hurting someone else’s essence, even if in North's mind it looks like she put Chloe’s thigh on leaned her up, touching her most sensitive way. Skin to skin, body to body, closer, pressing in with trembling lips waiting for others to touch, rubbing in closer, so that quiet moans break off from both.

The hand is arranged on another's lower back, squeezing the fragile girl to her, but Chloe is not going to move away. On the contrary, she presses closer to her, slides her fingers along the ribs of North herself, finds her breast, squeezing gently in her palms and teasing her tender nipples.

North knows everything about sex. All that an android could ever known, giving its body to people for so long that even its system lost the statistics of the days that it was in agony. And what happens to her now is not sex. To call such an action with such a word seems to her especially cynical, so she uses something completely different.

Love.

This is what they do, passing each other through their fingers, teasing their breasts, sides or thighs with pads, pressing in closer, while sliding along mutual moisture, not breaking into the infinite brightness behind which there is nothing bad, only the most beautiful.

Only Chloe. Only North.

When the whiteness that shrouded her consciousness subsides, leaving North alone with a bed sprawled, without Chloe beside her, she thinks that something that has just happened is probably the best in her life and the worst at the same time.

And tomorrow it is worthwhile to come as soon as possible, until she goes crazy with the expectation of seeing her Chloe live.

***

Modest Chloe - as the rest of Chloes calls her with the light hand of First - since last night impatiently. Yes, she had to break away from North, fall into reality too quickly, immediately, after each of them twisted to emerging stars in enveloping blackness, and she had to spent the whole night together with her Chloe-friends, decorating the mansion at the request of First, but all that may think is North.

Her name has been knocking in her head ever since she first saw her at one of the receptions. Similar to a cornered lioness, who clearly does not tolerate sophisticated women's dresses, North looked like a knight among fairies, who could not wait to throw off these rags and put on her usual armor again.

\- I'll open! - she shouts, running down the small ladder when the doorbell rings, and not one of her friends is going to stop her.

The door swings open quickly, covering it with frosty winter air and, at the same time, the heat that runs through each thirium tube inside, she should see red hair and beautiful brown eyes.

Chloe finds herself in a passionate embrace even before the door closes behind them, and everything ceases to matter when a confident, strong kiss blossoms on her lips, from which the insides turn over, allowing others' emotions and memories to fill her, explode inside to a crawled skin and bend knees cause of happiness.

And Chloe doesn't know how long they kiss by the time Elijah comes down from her floor, and they all shout “Merry Christmas” to him, and it doesn't matter, because she knows if she wants to leave North, nobody will stop her.

And Chloe passionately wants.

\- Merry Christmas, - Chloe whispers, interlacing her fingers with others, with the same skin that has disappeared, and plunging into someone else's warmth and sharing her own.

\- Merry Christmas, - North responds to her, and nodding at the mistletoe hanging right above them, kisses sweetly, hugging her.

Still, there is something special about giving each other presents on Christmas ...


End file.
